“Are you coming?” she called over her shoulder.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Once inside, he noted that the paper was peeling on the walls and that there was little light, save what streamed in through the dirty windows. Nonetheless, all of it was made more charming by the amazing smells that reached his nose the moment he opened the door. His stomach began rumbling at once.

  Even more amazing than the wonderful smells of cooking meat was the transformation Rose seemed to undertake the moment she stepped inside. Nearly as soon as she’d crossed the threshold, he heard her name bellowed from across the room. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone rushing them. He turned to see a large man—both in height and girth—hurrying toward them in a bull’s rush.

  He reacted quickly, taking Rose’s wrist and moving her to stand behind him while he readied for a fight.

  The man stopped abruptly, just inches in front of Thomas. “Where’d she go?” he asked, his brow furrowing in an almost childlike manner. “Where are you hiding, Rosie?”

  Before he could answer, Rose moved from behind him, causing the man’s face to split in a grin so sweet that Thomas got a toothache just looking at it.

  “Rosie!” he chanted, lunging for her. As Thomas watched, he picked her up in his giant hands and spun her around in a pirouette while she giggled.

  “Set me down!” she commanded at last, breathless from laughter.

  “Again! Again!”

  “Now, Amos, be a good boy and set me down.”

  Thomas’s brows arched to his hairline. A good boy? That boy, as she’d called him, was twice the size of most grown men he knew! And yet, the patient, somewhat stern way she spoke to him mirrored the way a woman spoke to a child, too. He watched the pair of them, stuck in an obviously familiar argument, perplexed.

  “One more time, Rosie?”

  “No,” she insisted. “I’m already so dizzy I’m likely to faint when you put me on the floor.”

  “I’ll carry you to your table,” he wheedled.

  “Amos, put me down, for Heaven’s sake! I’m not going to have you carrying me anywhere like I’m some invalid! What would people think?” Despite the exasperation in her voice, he saw her lips twitching.

  With obvious reluctance, the giant called Amos set her down. She made a show of tottering on her feet, which only made him bellow with laughter.

  “Rose? Rose, is that you, hon?”

  As Thomas watched, a woman rushed the pair of them. She must be Miss Patty, he presumed, because of the stained apron she wore.

  “I thought I heard a ruckus out here!” She set to wagging her finger at a suddenly chagrined looking Amos. “I hope you’ve been behavin’ yourself, lad!”

  He truly did look the part of the lad now, his face flushing as he scraped his boot along the floor. “Aw, Ma…”

  “He’s a regular angel, you know that, Velma.”

  “Hmph. Angel my foot.” And yet, no one would have been able to miss the way she beamed up at him. “You best give these folks our finest table. It’s mighty nice to see you again, Rose. You’re too thin, as always. Promise me you’ll have some cobbler.”

  The tinkle of her laughter was rich and sweet. “If I ate everything you shoved at me, I’d be over three hundred pounds by now!”

  “It would do you some good to have some meat on your bones,” the older woman insisted.

  “It’s not good for a girl in my line of work.”

  “Hmph,” Velma disagreed. “Fellas flock to you no matter what, you know that. Besides, I reckon you can always work off the sugar.” With a bold wink, she turned to leave. But before she returned to the kitchen she called over her shoulder, “You be sure to introduce me to your fella before you go.”

  He glanced at Rose to see if she’d comment, but she didn’t.

  “Right this way, m’lady.” Amos gave a little bow, making Rose grin at him.

  “I’m no lady, you know that.” But she took his arm all the same and began to walk with him.

  “You are to me.” Amos showed them to a table, which Rose praised, making his chest puff out with pride. “Will you be wantin’ the house special? It’s—”

  “Surprise me,” she cut him off with a smile.

  Amos nodded and gave Thomas one more curious look before he made his departure.

  “He can be a little too descriptive about the food for my taste,” she explained, wrinkling her nose. “I prefer not to know too much about what’s on my plate, other than it’s meant to be eaten.”

  Thomas grinned. “He seems nice enough.”

  “He is that.”

  “Amos seems awful big for his ma to still be callin’ him a lad.” He didn’t miss the way her eyes cooled when she looked at him.

  “He’s not all there in the head,” she said, her tone turning as chilly as her gaze. “But I suppose you saw that for yourself.”

  Thomas found himself reaching across the table for her hand. She nearly pulled it back, but his fingers clasped over hers just in time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any offense.”

  Rose sniffed and tried to yank her hand back, but he held firm. “Never mind. Plenty of people have said worse, I suppose.” She surveyed the place before meeting his gaze. “In fact, some refuse to eat here because of it, even though it’s the best place in town besides eating Miss Nettie’s cooking at the Red Petticoat but people tend to shun that place as well.”

  “There’s no accountin’ for taste, I reckon.”

  She relaxed slightly and rewarded him with a small smile.

  “And anyway, they seem to be doing all right for themselves. The place could use a few new boards and a coat of paint, maybe, but…”

  “And a new sign,” she added.

  Thomas arched a brow, a silent question.

  “It started out as the Culpepper Café and then Miss Patty bought it. She sold it to Velma but she hasn’t had the time nor money to worry about a new sign.”

  “Really? Why’d she keep it?”

  “Cheaper than buying a new one, I suspect.”

  Put so reasonably, he felt silly for asking in the first place. “How do you know them?”

  “Like I said. They have the best boiled mutton in town.”

  He sensed that there was more to it than that, but he knew better than to press. She was having a civil conversation with him, and since he found himself more curious about her with each passing moment, he reckoned he better not ruin it. He much preferred this side of her than the hellcat he’d spanked a few days ago.

  “Tell me about yourself.”

  “What do you want to know?” he asked, taken aback by the sudden show of interest.

  “Hmm… tell me about your wife.”

  Now he was doubly surprised and grateful for the cups on the table. He took his time, picked up the tin pitcher and poured water for each of them while he thought of how to respond. “Annie was… she was a special woman,” he said at last. He knew it was inadequate, but the truth was, he didn’t often talk about his wife. Not even to Polly and certainly not to other women. It felt wrong, somehow.

  “Was she pretty?”

  Thomas took a sip, letting the tepid water wet his throat as he considered the woman in front of him. She was an astonishing beauty, with her wide sparkling blue eyes and her long golden crown of hair. Annie wouldn’t have been able to hold a candle to her in that regard, though he had thought her very beautiful, and always would.

  “She was.”

  “Does your daughter take after her?”

  “Polly doesn’t look much like her mama, I’m afraid.”

  Rose seemed to consider this as she, too, sipped her water. “What’s it like, raising her by yourself?”

  “Tiring.” He grinned. “But worth it. And, of course, my brother has been a tremendous help and your friend, Louise. I’m much obliged to the pair of them.”

  Just then, Amos came over with loud, lumbering footsteps that made them look up from their conversation. Without a word, he set plates down in front of them.

  Rose thanked him sweetly, a sentiment that Thomas echoed.

  “Shall we say grace?”

  She didn’t look at all amenable to the idea, but he took her hand just the same and said a short prayer.

  Then Thomas turned his attention to the meal in front of him. The smell of cooked meat, vegetables and bread had his mouth watering in moments. Once he picked up his fork, he had to pace himself before he woofed down the entire thing in one mouthful.

  “Why don’t you have a wife?”

  The question caught him off guard and he had to grab his water and take a few swallows to keep from choking. “I did, once.”

  Her brows arched as she surveyed him coolly. “So I gathered.”

  “She… she passed away nearly three years ago.”

  “That’s a long time,” Rose observed. “I meant why haven’t you married again? You could’ve had a woman by now, surely. There aren’t many to be had, but you could’ve gotten a catalogue woman.”

  “I didn’t like any of the pictures.”

  Rose didn’t smile at his pale attempt at humor. “So you pass your time with a whore?”

  He looked around, suddenly feeling self-conscious with the bawdy language she used so freely.

  “We’re the only ones in here. Velma and Amos won’t be whispering about it, don’t you worry.”

  “I’m not worried.”

  “You look worried.”

  “I’m not… it’s not that.”

  She sat back, her eyes sliding down to her plate as she moved bits of meat around with her fork.

  Thomas studied her, wondering what to say. She intrigued him, fascinated him, even. He couldn’t have guessed what was going through her mind right now if his life depended on it. He wanted to ask, but he suspected she’d just laugh at him or dismiss his question if he dared inquire.

  “I haven’t known many…”

  “Whores?”

  “I was goin’ to say painted ladies.”

  “Might as well call a duck a duck, mister.”

  “What did you do? Before, I mean?”

  Rose gave him a tight smile as she forked a carrot into her mouth. She stared at him thoughtfully as she chewed. “This,” she gestured to her dress, which, though modest, still had the red petticoat beneath it, “is what I’ve always done.”

  “Surely not.”

  “And why’s that?” Her blue eyes narrowed to slits. “Because every little girl grows up with such a loving, devoted father?”

  He wasn’t quite sure whether or not the scorn in her voice was meant for him, or herself, but either way, he knew he didn’t like it.

  Before he found a way to answer her, she’d leapt to her feet.

  “Wait just a minute, where do you think you’re goin’?”

  “This was a mistake. I’ve got to get back to the Petticoat.”

  “What’s your hurry? You’ve got to eat, you know.”

  “They feed me, thank you very much.”

  He tried to grab her wrist as she marched past, but she sidestepped him neatly and was heading for the door. Damn woman. He’d hardly had anything to eat, and now he’d have to leave it. Why did the foolhardy, stubborn ones always get in between him and his stomach?

  “Rose!” he bellowed, hoping to stall her. “Rose, come back here!”

  But she didn’t stop. Though he moved as quickly as he could, she’d gotten a head start and she was out the door before he was two steps away from their table.

  “Damn,” he swore as he slapped two bills on the table to cover their meal. Then he was after her like a shot. He lifted a hand to shade his eyes from the sun and turned his head from side to side, trying to see her. Though there were a few women milling about none of them was Rose. He ruled them out at a quick glance.

  He also realized that she must have already slipped away through the crowded streets.

  “Rose!” he thundered at the top of his voice. He’d known it was pointless even before he did it, but he had to try. Though one or two heads turned to gawk, he ignored them. He put his hat securely on his head and made a quick decision to head back to the Red Petticoat. That was where she’d said she was heading and anyway, where else did she have to go?

  * * *

  As Rose hurried away, breathing fire through her angrily flaring nostrils, she was really mad at herself. She was mad at Thomas, too, of course, but mostly at herself. She’d had no business going to eat with him in the first place. What had she been thinking?

  She hadn’t been, of course. That was the obvious answer and the one she couldn’t run from. Despite those big, broad shoulders and the large hands of a man, he was a boy, a child who knew nothing, compared to her. He didn’t know a damn thing about real life. Especially not her life. And what a brutal, merciless experience it had been. The mere fact that he would question that, that he would look at her like she somehow could have done better, showed how little he truly knew. Girls like her were good for one thing and one thing only. It had never shamed her before and she’d be damned if she’d let Mr. Thomas Rockwell change her feelings after all this time.

  “Hey!”

  Speak of the devil, she thought, picking up her pace.

  “Hey, you! Rose! Stop right there!”

  She had no intention of halting for anyone, but especially not for him. Not if he was anywhere near as mad as his voice sounded. And what did he have to be mad about, anyway? He was the one who’d offended.

  “Rose!”

  Realizing that he was closer behind her than when she’d first heard him, she picked up her skirts and hurried along the dirt road. Damn petticoats. She’d move much faster without them, but that would be quite unseemly, wouldn’t it?

  Without another word—perhaps realizing that he was wasting his breath—a hand clamped on her shoulder.

  She only had time to yelp before she was spun around to face his scowling anger. The sight of it made her flinch, despite herself. She’d looked many a hard-ass in the face without so much as blinking, but Thomas… the sight of those dark, flashing eyes and his squared jaw made her knees turn to jelly. So much so that she would have slid to the ground, if not for the hold he had on her arm.

  “What’s the matter with you?” he scolded, giving her a little shake. “Where the hell were you going?”

  “Back to the Petticoat,” she muttered.

  “Tell me why the hell you felt the need to sprint out of there like you’d seen a ghost. Make it quick, ‘cause I don’t know how long I can wait to tan that naughty hide of yours.”

  Her eyes rounded in surprise even as her heart slammed against her chest, hard. “I…”

  “Oh, don’t act surprised,” he snapped. “You know you’re not s’pose to go walking around without a chaperone.”

  Her eyes went wider still as she realized she had, in fact, broken the rule. “I forgot,” she asserted lamely.

  Thomas didn’t look like he much cared. “What’d you go and run off for? I thought we were havin’ a nice conversation.”

  His words helped her anxiety give way to anger. “A nice conversation? You mean, when you judged me for my choices?”

  “Hang on, now. I didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” She sniffed, trying to pull her arm away and only getting further incensed when he held tighter. “You insulted me.”

  “How?”

  He truly looked confused, which only made her roll her eyes heavenward.

  “No, you accused me of somethin’, now you’ll tell me exactly what it is your claimin’ I did.”

  “You insulted me when you mocked my business.”

  Thomas’s brows arched to his hairline. “I don’t reckon I mocked it. I merely found it… interesting that you claim to, ah, have never done anything else.”

  “Only because I haven’t,” she snapped, jutting her chin in the air.

  “Well, I didn’t mean any offense by it, I was just… surprised.”

  “You go on and keep being surprised, if you like. The truth is, whether you want to see it or not, not every little girl has a big, strong papa to protect her. Some girls become whores—someone has to spread their legs for all the filthy miners, right?” She was so mad, she was practically spitting as she talked. “Why shouldn’t it be me?” She gave a mighty yank, trying to wrest herself from his grasp. When he held firm once again she gave a frustrated squeal and stamped her foot.

  “None of that,” Thomas said, his voice quiet and authoritative in the face of her ill temper. “You calm down, now.”

  Rose’s brow furrowed—she didn’t like taking orders, not one bit, and she did the first thing that came to mind. She picked her heel up and brought it smashing down onto his boot as hard as she could manage.

  Thomas yelped in surprise and this time when she tried to free her arm, she was successful.

  She did not, however, make it half a dozen steps before she found herself seized around the waist. “Let me go!” she screeched at the top of her lungs. “Let me go! Help!”

  “How dare you?” he growled.

  The gravelly quality of his tone made her belly knot in anxious balls. At the same time, a wave of unexpected heat coursed through her, shooting directly to her sex.

  “First, you run away over an imagined slight and then you have the gall to stomp on me? It would seem that I took it much too easy on you the other day, Miss Rose.”

  Oh, she was regretting every single bit of her quick temper right now, even more so when Thomas carried her over to a tree stump and sat, throwing her over his lap.

  “Wait! Stop! I’m sorry!”

  “Stop?” he echoed, the amusement in his voice making her scowl. “I haven’t even done anything yet.” But the way that he picked up her skirts and lay them over her back told her in no uncertain terms that he intended to.

  “I’m sorry!” she tried again.

  “Frankly, Miss Rose, I’m not sure that’s true. But you will be, I promise you that.”

  And when the first swat fell down on her drawers, sounding like a thunderclap, she began to fight tooth and nail to get free. She’d rather be chased by a pack of wild dogs than stay over the firm knees of Thomas Rockwell!